"Oh, you'll get them, all right," said McCarty confidently. "The woods are full of them, and Bob is as good a bird dog as there is in the State of Florida. Look, he is at it already." As if to justify the compliment paid him, Bob had stopped in front of a little oak thicket, and stood with head thrust forward and tail sticking straight out. He waited patiently in this attitude for the lads to approach. "Get your gun ready, and I'll scare them up for you," McCarty said. "If you are not used to shooting on the wing just aim at the flock and blaze away when they rise." He picked up a heavy stick and threw it into the thicket. With a whirling of wings a big covey of quail rose up from its center. Walter fired one barrel after the other into the middle of the flock. "Good!" exclaimed McCarty. "You got a dozen at least. Watch where the balance light. Here, Bob, fetch 'em out." The dog rushed forward, but stopped at the edge of the thicket. "Fetch 'em out, Bob; fetch 'em out," encouraged the lad, but the dog turned back with drooping tail. "There's something wrong in there," declared McCarty; "something the dog is afraid of." "Well, I'm going in and get my quail," Walter said. "I'm not going to be cheated out of the first quail I ever killed." "Hold on," said McCarty, "there's no telling what you may run up against. The thicket isn't over fifty feet across. Let's set fire to both sides of it, and one of us stand by each end. We ought to be able to kill whatever it is as it comes out." "Good," Walter agreed. "I'll take my stand by this end, and you can take yours by the other." In a few minutes the thicket was ablaze on both sides, while the two lads, with guns cocked, stood eagerly waiting the appearance of its occupant. The thicket was all of small growth, and in a few minutes the fire had swept it clear to the ground, leaving only here and there a few smouldering stalks of thicket growth. The dead quail lay scattered around on the ground, unhurt except for a slight singing of feathers. "I guess Bob got a wrong hunch that time," Walter said, as he picked up his quail, of which there were thirteen. "I'll bet on Bob every time," said McCarty. "There was something in here that he was afraid to tackle, and I'll bet if we look around long enough we'll find some trace of it." "Look out!" said Walter. "There it is, right in front of you." CHAPTER X. WALTER AND THE ENGINEER GO A-HUNTING. A FEW feet in front of McCarty lay a little mound of soft dirt, thrown up by a gopher when digging its hole down deep into the earth. It was the stirring of this mound of sand that had called forth Walter's exclamation. The boys watched, fascinated, as the sand trembled more violently, and a big, flat head, with lidless eyes, reared itself above the dirt. At sight of the repulsive-looking head, both boys fired, and the head dropped back, nearly severed from its body.